


The Joys of Role Reversal

by AgentMalkere



Series: The Continuing Adventures of Dirk the Daring and Princess Daphne [2]
Category: Dragon's Lair (1983), Dragon's Lair (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Kidnapping, Magic, Speech Disorders, fairytale logic, no relation to the proposed movie plot at all, rescuing, roll reversal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-05-06 10:29:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5413439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentMalkere/pseuds/AgentMalkere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Somebody had been doing magic in her house. </p><p>Somebody had been doing magic in her house, and that somebody had STOLEN HER HUSBAND.<br/>Daphne’s brain skipped straight from confused and afraid to FURIOUS.  </p><p>OR </p><p>The one where it's Dirk's turn to get kidnapped and Daphne tries her hand at rescuing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Joys of Role Reversal

**Author's Note:**

> This story can stand on its own. All you really need to know from "A Life Least Expected" is that Dirk has a speech impediment that is fairly severe.

Somebody had flipped over the long oak table. Daphne stared at it, unable to comprehend what her eyes were telling her. The table’s top was a two inch thick, solid oak board. It had taken Dirk and two other men to lift it in the first place, and now it was lying on its side like someone had batted it over with a careless hand. 

There was a scorch mark on the stone wall. Several dishes were broken, and the shattered pieces were scattered across the ground. A glint of silver caught Daphne’s eye. Dirk’s broad sword lay in the shadow of the table, unsheathed and abandoned. Her heart clenched. 

“Dirk?” Daphne called, not really expecting an answer. She didn’t get one. 

With dread, Daphne edged around to peer behind the fallen table. It was the only spot large enough to hide – 

The space behind the table was empty except for more shattered plates. Daphne let out a soft breath of relief. 

No sign of Dirk and no blood, but his sword was still here. A faint smell hung in the air. Ozone, burning, sage, rose petals, and… myrrh? Daphne sniffed again. Yup, that was definitely myrrh. Somebody had been doing magic in her house. 

Somebody had been doing magic in her house, and that somebody had _stolen her husband_. 

Daphne’s brain skipped straight from confused and afraid to _furious_. Dirk was her brave and adorably awkward knight, _her_ husband, and she wasn’t about to let some magic-using hussy lay a hand on him! (Daphne doubted anyone but a sorceress would wander around stinking of rose petals.) 

Daphne retrieved Dirk’s adventuring pack from its peg by the door. Into went bread, cheese, some dried meat, a ball of twine, and her lucky diamond bracelet because Daphne wasn’t above bribery if it came to that. Besides, the diamonds were set in silver, and weren’t sorceresses allergic to silver? Or was that werewolves? After a moment’s thought, Daphne also added a few sprigs of rosemary (her neighbor said it warded off evil and every little bit helped) and a blanket because it got cold at night and what if this sorceress had stolen Dirk’s shirt? You never knew. Better to be prepared. 

Then Daphne put on her second favorite apron, the one with the large pocket (pockets were useful, and no sense in getting blood on her favorite), and pulled her hair back into a braid. She strapped on the sheath of Dirk’s sword a little awkwardly and then retrieved the blade itself from under the fallen table. She might not know how to use it, but Dirk might need it to stab things with as they made their escape. Finally, Daphne grabbed a kitchen knife because that she _did_ know how to use. 

She surveyed the kitchen one last time. Had she missed anything? A cast iron frying pan caught her eye. Well, it certainly couldn’t hurt. She added the pan to her collection and then shouldered her pack. It was time to go – Princess Daphne had a knight to rescue. 

*** 

Dirk wasn’t really sure where he was. He blinked blearily at his surroundings. Last he remembered, he’d been in the cottage retrieving his sword for some practice and wondering when Daphne would be home from her weekly visit to the village. Then a dark-haired woman burst through the door who definitely _wasn’t_ Daphne. Dirk had managed to dodge a fireball to the face and had barely avoided being crushed by the oak table. He had found himself wishing for his chainmail as he desperately scrabbled for his fallen sword. The woman had gleefully announced that Dirk was everything she had been told. Everything she had hoped for. More even. Dirk had stared at her in confusion. What? And then there had been green, glow-y sparkles and… nothing. He couldn’t remember a thing after that. 

Ever so slowly his vision started to clear. The room was draped in silk and satin and tapestries. Dirk himself was lying on a bed, being eaten by a mound of pillows. He flailed upright. A jingling and a strange heaviness drew his attention to his left ankle. It was encased in a heavy metal shackle. A chain connected the shackle to a ring embedded in the stone wall. Someone had taken his boots and… where the hell was his shirt?! 

The bed was the only piece of furniture in the round room. Two stained glass windows depicting forest scenes let in multicolored light. The only way out appeared to be the heavy wooden door to the right of the bed. Dirk gave his chain an experimental tug. Nope, it definitely didn’t reach that far. 

The door abruptly burst open, and Dirk wasn’t the least bit surprised to see the dark-haired woman from before dressed in excessively drape-y yet revealing green. Was this woman capable of anything other than dramatic entrances? 

“Dirk the Daring! At last I have found a man worthy of me!” The woman swooped towards him, and Dirk rolled off the left side of the bed to avoid her grasping hands. The woman pouted dramatically. “Come now, Dirk. You should be honored. I, Electra the All-Seeing, am going to make you my husband!” 

Dirk glared at her over the edge of the bed. With effort he forced out the words that always seemed to stick in his throat. 

“Al-ready married.” 

Electra gave an exaggerated eye roll. 

“Oh, _please_. That little wisp of blonde nothing? Why would you ever bother with her when you could have a _real_ woman?” 

Dirk really wasn’t sure how Electra constituted a ‘real woman’ and Daphne somehow didn’t. He doubted pointing out that he loved Daphne would help the situation. Maybe Electra meant that she was taller than Daphne? What difference was that supposed to make? 

“You know,” Electra leaned forward with a smile that was probably supposed to be seductive but in actuality just reminded Dirk of a shark, “I’ve always gone for the strong, silent types.” She gave him a flick on the nose. Then she turned and sashayed out the door. “Think about it, handsome. I’ll be back!” The door slammed shut unaided behind her. 

Dirk didn’t need any time to think. He already knew exactly what his answer was going to be – _hell no_. 

Seven escape attempts later, Dirk found himself floating in a green magical bubble unable to touch anything else in the room. 

Damn it. It was just as annoying as Daphne had always told him it was. 

*** 

Daphne considered the stairs in front of her and readjusted her grip on the handle of her frying pan. 

It had taken her four days on horseback to reach the sorceress’s castle. The castle had been surrounded by a massive tangle of plants – mostly rosebushes – that were in desperate need of a gardener’s attention. Daphne had hacked a path through the thicket with her kitchen knife. She may or may not have enjoyed decapitating any rose that got in her way a bit too much. (She had been without Dirk for four days, and it wasn’t helping her mood.) At the entrance to the castle, Daphne had befriended a very bored sphinx by giving it her ball of twine instead of answering its riddle. (Because, well, it looked to be at least part cat, and all cats liked balls of string, and guarding a barely used door must be terribly dull.) The sphinx had been so pleased with the ball of twine that it had told her that the sorceress’s name was Electra the All-Seeing and that she was holding Dirk prisoner at the top of the tallest tower to try and force him to marry her. It had also warned Daphne not to wander into the great hall, because it was heavily booby-trapped and contained a crocodile. 

Once inside, Daphne had exchanged her knife for the frying pan, because all the flower hacking had dulled the blade, and put the sprigs of rosemary in her apron pocket to keep them handy. In her search for the tallest tower, she had narrowly avoided a long hall carpet that turned into quicksand, run away from a room full of tentacle monster, spoken briefly to an unhelpful skeleton, and discovered that it _was_ werewolves who were adversely effected by silver. A guard had snuck up behind her, and in her fright, she had accidentally hit him in the face with the arm she was wearing her lucky bracelet on. He’d run off clutching his face and screaming, smoke curling from between his fingers. Daphne felt a little bad about that but, honestly, he shouldn’t have crept up on her. Also, there may or may not have been a poltergeist that was actively avoiding her, but Daphne couldn’t prove anything. 

This was the only staircase left that Daphne hadn’t tried. Dirk had to be at the top of those stairs. That Electra woman was probably up there, too. Only one way to know for sure. Daphne crept up the stairs as quietly as she could. She didn’t have brute force on her side, so the element of surprise was the best option. 

The large wooden door at the top of the steps was ajar, and a woman’s voice was leaking through the gap. Daphne snuck forward to take a peek. 

“I don’t understand why you’re being so resistant! I’m offering you the world! I’m offering you _me_!” A woman with long, unnaturally black hair was making dramatic hand gestures in the middle of the room. She must be Electra. For an outfit so drape-y, her dress certainly left nothing to the imagination. And in front of her… was Dirk! Floating in a green bubble, shirtless, and looking _incredibly_ irritated. 

“I’d give you power,” Electra continued. “Wealth beyond your wildest imagining.” She paused and smirked. “Play your cards right, and I might even be persuaded to fix your voice.” 

Daphne scowled. That was just _mean_. Dirk apparently agreed with Daphne’s assessment, because he made a twisting gesture with his hands which, in Dirk sign language, translated roughly as ‘shove it where the sun don’t shine.’ Electra had obviously been deemed not worth the effort of speech. 

Electra didn’t take the hint and continued to prattle on about how wonderful she was. Daphne turned her attention to what she could see of the rest of the room. No sign of any additional guards – just a large canape bed and a small mountain of cushions. She turned her attention back to Electra just in time to see Dirk’s eyes widen as he caught sight of her. He quickly looked away. 

Daphne gave the door and experimental poke. Somebody apparently kept the hinges well oiled. It didn’t so much as squeak. Daphne eased the door open just enough so that she could slip through. The thick rug muffled her footsteps. She lifted her frying pan…. 

“What was that?” Electra started to turn. 

Daphne walloped her in the face as hard as she could. Electra’s eyes rolled back in her head, and she oozed to the ground like her strings had been cut. The green magic bubble burst, and Dirk landed on his feet.

“Daph!” He swept her into a hug, burying his face in the side of her neck, and then kissed her firmly on the lips. Daphne grinned. She’d missed him. Daphne unbuckled the sword from around her waist and offered it to Dirk. He accepted it with a relieved and grateful expression. 

“Come on – let’s go before she wakes up.” 

Dirk lifted his left foot and gave it a shake. It jingled. Daphne hadn’t noticed that he was still chained to the wall. She frowned. 

“Where’s the key?” 

Dirk tapped the center of his chest and then pointed at Electra. 

“A-round her. Neck.” 

There was, indeed, a key on a chain shoved deep in the cavern of Electra’s cleavage. Daphne handed Dirk the key, and he went to work unlocking his shackle. 

“That was em- _barrassing_ ,” he muttered as the shackle fell away. 

“What was?” asked Daphne. “Me rescuing you?” 

“No.” Dirk shook his head. “Bubble. Chain.” He made a disgusted noise. 

Electra let out a long groan. Drat! They’d taken too long. 

“What’s going on?” mumbled Electra, sitting up. Blood was streaming from her nose, and a dark purple bruise was starting to form on her forehead. She blinked at Dirk and Daphne in confusion. “Who are you?” 

“Ummm…,” Daphne hesitated. “We, uh, had just stopped by for a visit, but you’re clearly unwell, so we’ll be going. You should go back to sleep – you need your rest.” 

“Oh.” Electra considered this. “Okay.” And she passed back out again. 

“Come on.” Daphne caught Dirk’s hand with a bright smile. “Let’s go home.” 

*** 

The long oak table was upright again and back in its proper place. The broken dishes still needed to be replaced and the scorch scrubbed from the wall, but it was a good start. Slowly but surely, Daphne’s world was setting itself to right. 

Dirk carefully grasped Daphne’s hand and adjusted the angle between her kitchen knife and the whetstone. He was teaching her how to sharpen knives. It was apparently a skill that all heroines needed to know. 

Daphne leaned a little more into Dirk’s side. The sun was warm on her face as they sat on the front step of the cottage, and Dirk was a solid, comforting presence next to her. It was good to have him back.

**Author's Note:**

> Rosemary is believed to ward off evil spirits - hence the poltergeist leaving Daphne alone. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! There's at least one more snippet yet to come in this series.


End file.
